The Story Never Ends
by keslei
Summary: It's been a year.


**Author's Note:** It's been a year since Fringe ended, and nearly a year since I've written anything for this show, because I couldn't face these characters without grieving that they would never live on my screen again. But now, a year later, I haven't so much moved on as I've realized that what this show and these characters gave me can continue long after the show's ending. Fringe may no longer air each Friday, but it lives on - in the stories that we write, in the memories that we've made, in new people being added to the fandom even now. And so I've realized that even though I miss my show, and will probably always miss it, this can still be a good place. So last night, for the first time in almost a year, I sat down and reconnected with Peter and Olivia. This was the result.

**Disclaimer:** These characters are not my property.

* * *

She's woken that morning by an overly-energetic four-year-old jumping up and down on the bed. It's got to be _very_ early, because it's just beginning to get light outside, and she wonders for the hundredth time how on earth Etta does it. Yes, Olivia's a morning person too, but not like Etta is. Swiping her hand across her face, she reaches over to Peter's half of the bed, and is mildly surprised to find it empty - he is most definitely_ not_ a morning person, so for him to be voluntarily up this early… it's odd. She isn't given a chance to dwell on that thought, though, as her tousle-headed little girl plops down beside her on the bed.

Today, Etta is chattering happily about maybe having waffles for breakfast, and, "Momma, can we go to the park?" followed by a confusing story about the neighbor's dog, and Olivia can't keep up, not at this hour, not before a cup of coffee.

So she simply smiles and nods and, after Etta pauses to take a breath, tries to direct her daughter's attention elsewhere.

"Etta, honey, why don't you ask Daddy to make you some breakfast?"

At that, that little girl's enthusiasm seems to taper off a bit, and as her face falls, Olivia knows there's something not quite right. Usually, Etta loves nothing more than to ask her daddy for things, because Peter never says no. But today, the little blond head bows and the chubby fingers twist together briefly.

"I asked. I don't think Daddy was listening, 'cause he didn't answer…"

And that one single fact is enough to prove that something's up, because Peter never ignores his daughter, always hangs on her every word.

It's then that Olivia's gaze falls on the clock on the nightstand, and as the date registers, she realizes why Peter is not acting like his normal self today.

Today marks one year since Walter vanished, leaving only a note and a scratchy video-recording behind.

It's been a difficult year for both of them, but it was Peter who was hit the hardest by his father's disappearance, by not knowing why he had to go, or where (or when) he went. And she knows that the pang in her heart that she felt upon realizing the date is nothing compared to what Peter is feeling, knows that today, he will need her to be the strong one, to get them through.

So she scoops Etta up into her arms and rolls out of bed, sliding her feet into her waiting slippers (an action that will forever make her think of Walter and his insistence upon the necessity of said slippers).

Now properly shod, she pads carefully down the stairs to the kitchen, with Etta clinging to her tightly, the little girl rambling on about the new playground at the park while Olivia nods and "mm hmm"s absently.

She deposits Etta carefully on one of the stools along the kitchen island, reminding her not to wiggle too much or she'll fall off. It's a warning that she knows her daughter will take seriously, because just last week she tumbled off and got a nasty goose egg on her head. Moving quickly, she pours out a bowl of Etta's favorite cereal and slides it over to her (with no milk, because "Momma, milk makes it soggy!"). Satisfied that the little girl will be occupied for the next several minutes, Olivia steps into the living room.

Peter is there, hunched over in his chair, hair still disheveled from his pillow, and hands clutching tightly to a scrap of paper.

She knows what it is without ever getting a good look - the last letter Walter sent him, the drawing of a white tulip which was his father's farewell note.

The paper is worn now, smudged and wrinkled and tear-stained, and Peter runs his finger over it carefully, gently, as he has a thousand times over the last twelve months.

There's nothing for her to say to comfort him, and she doesn't even try to offer platitudes. Instead, she moves quietly to his side, placing her hand on his shoulder, offering the one thing she can - assurance that she is there, will always be there for him.

At her touch, he breathes out a heavy sigh, reaching his hand up to cover hers.

"I miss him, Livia. I miss him so much."

She squeezes his shoulder tightly, hearing the grief in his voice, wishing she could do more. There aren't words that can fix this pain though, and so she simply remains there by his side, her silent presence the best balm she can give him.

After a moment, he swipes at the tears on his cheeks, then turns his watery gaze up to her face.

"You and Etta… you're what gets me through this, you know."

"I know. And we're not leaving."

Gently, she takes the white tulip from his grasp, and slides it into the end table drawer.

"Now come on, your daughter is waiting for her daddy to make waffles."

He allows her to tug him up from the chair, and, as she turns towards the kitchen, he catches her hand, pulls her in close, resting his forehead against hers. They stand like that for a moment, neither saying a word, gaining strength from each other to face this day.

And then Etta is calling out from the kitchen and the moment is over - life moving on.

* * *

They go to the park later that day at Etta's insistence - the new playground is her favorite place to visit on a sunny afternoon. And it is a beautiful day, the sky as blue as can be, just a hint of a breeze, and the scent of late summer flowers filling the air.

Olivia knows that being here, at the park, on this day, will inevitably bring back memories for Peter, trigger more tears tonight, but for now, he smiles. As he spins with Etta, as she lifts her little arms into the air and squeals out, "I'm flying, Daddy, look!", it's impossible for him not to match her grin with his own.

And later, as they watch Etta chase a butterfly across the grass, he reaches out and squeezes Olivia's hand tightly, strokes the back of her hand with his thumb, looks at her with his love evident in his eyes.

"This is good… I wish Walter was here with us, probably will always miss him, but this… this is still good."

She smiles softly back at him, at the man who turned her world upside down, the man who gave her a family she never could have imagined, the man whom she loves more than can be put into words.

"I'm glad."


End file.
